


A Plethora of Peppers

by outtabreath



Category: Iron Man (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Reality, Experiments gone awry!, F/F, F/M, Humor, Mad Science
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-08
Updated: 2013-05-09
Packaged: 2017-12-10 19:42:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/789440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/outtabreath/pseuds/outtabreath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony's latest project goes slightly awry and all Pepper breaks loose.</p><p>Written for the Clichés challenge on LJ's it's always been community. I used the prompts "Jealousy" and "Multiple Universes."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I know next to nothing about the comics and I apologize for the multitude of mistakes that I have, doubtlessly, made, especially as I did all of my "research" on the Wikipedia IM character pages. Also, I have totally made up everything about wormholes and alternate universes.
> 
> A few points: I'm ignoring the events of IM2 like I usually do and this was written way before IM3, so that movie is left out, too.
> 
> Alecia Beth Moore is Pink's real name.
> 
> From Wikipedia: "Bubble and squeak is a traditional English dish made with the shallow-fried leftover vegetables from a roast dinner - it is eaten, among other times, at breakfast and can be part of a Full English breakfast."
> 
> The Neighborhood is a real (and amazing) place that does not serve English food. I love the food there, but the stairs down to the bathroom really are steep and dark and I may die there one day, but that will be okay because the place is so super amazing and wonderful that it must exist in all universes (even the ones in which we didn't win the War of American Independence/The War of American Brattiness) and the other outtabreaths will continue to live on and eat well.
> 
> Sorry about turning Japan, Australia, New Zealand, most of the South Pacific and Hawaii into Communist nations in one of the alternate universes. No disrespect is meant towards any of those fine nations (and the one state).
> 
> In the comics, Stark Industries has had several names - I've included several in this fic. I did, however, totally make up Stark War Machines. But I really like it.
> 
> I don't own Tony or Pepper. Really.

Pepper Hogan had just dropped the grocery bags to the kitchen floor when Alecia Beth Moore began blaring from her purse: _na-na-na-na, na-na, na_ , _I wanna start a fight._ With gritted teeth, she grabbed the phone and answered. "Emily, please stop messing with my ringtones."

" _Mom_ ," Emily said, her tone and inflection that of tween girls everywhere. "No one uses the ringtones that come with their phones. It's _embarrassing_."

"So is having _So What_ blaring from my phone whenever someone calls me," she noted.

Emily sighed, no doubt trying to figure out how she got stuck with such an annoying and clueless parent, and then got to the point of the call. "Hannah's mom told me that I had to call you because she wants to know if you'll drive Hannah to the meet next weekend because Hannah's little sister has some little kid's birthday party she's supposed to go to and Hannah's dad will be out of town for work and Hannah's mom needs to make sure that she doesn't need to find a ride for Hannah's little sister so she can take Hannah to the meet."

Pepper closed her eyes and ran through the extraordinary deluge of words, picking out the salient points. "Tell Mrs. Walker I said yes. Oh, and ask her what she's bringing to the soccer bake sale tomorrow." Pepper had bought the ingredients to make sugar cookies and the ingredients to make cupcakes; she was hoping to get out of making cupcakes – Hal always stole a good half-dozen from any batch.

There was a moment of music and grunting and young bodies hitting mats with springs beneath them before Emily answered the question. "Sugar cookies."

Pepper sighed. It looked like she was going to be making cupcakes. Maybe she could put an alarm on the container.

"Anything else, Mom?" Emily sighed, asking in a way that indicated that she was very much hoping that there _was not_.

"Nope, honey, have fun. I love you."

" _Mom_ , I'm at practice."

"I know," Pepper said. "Say it. You know you want to. Say you love me. Say you love your mommy."

Emily squeaked at her in outrage and then shouted, "Stop yelling at me, Alex! I know it's my turn. I'm coming. God! I was talking to my mooooooooooom." The call ended and Pepper relished a rare moment of victory in the ongoing war of mothers and daughters.

_Na-na-na-na, na-na_. Pepper grimaced and grabbed the phone before the song could get any further.

"Honey, where'd you stash Brian's cleats?"

Pepper began sorting through the cloth bags, searching for the pints (and pints) of ice cream; perhaps her family ate too much of it every week; perhaps her children's friends did. "In the blue bag. The blue bag with the broken zipper. And the red stripe. Not the blue bag with the broken zipper and the white stripe."

After several seconds of muffled sound, Hal was back on the phone. "Why do we have so many bags with broken zippers?"

She unearthed one of the ice cream cartons (Cherry Perez) and set it on the counter. "Because we have kids and we're not wasting money on buying new bags with new zippers that'll just get ripped up, too. We'll use those until they fall apart."

"We have plenty of money."

"And two kids that are going to go to college one day," she reminded him; in this marriage, she was the practical one.

"Ask her, daddy, pleeeeease! Pleasepleaseplease!" She could picture Brian's face: huge blue eyes, long lashes, trembling lip. Pepper steeled herself. Hal was helpless in the face of such plaintiveness. In this marriage, she also had to be the bad guy.

"Okay, buddy, okay. Pep, Brian wants to know if Ethan can stay over tonight."

An easy request, at least; Ethan was a good kid, very polite and helpful – and he and Brian got along well. "What did Helen say?"

"Please take him off my hands."

Triumphantly, she found another tub of ice cream (Rocky Road). "Of course she did," Pepper chuckled, Helen and Chris had six kids and the prospect of having one less for a night was always attractive to them. "Tell them sure - tonight's movie night and the kids will like the movie I rented. I gotta go, hon, I've got to put the groceries away and make cupcakes."

"Cupcakes," Hal murmured.

"I'm lowjacking them," she said. "I need every one of them for the bake sale tomorrow."

Hal made a disappointed sound.

"Fine, I'll make extras for you. Now I've really got to go. If I don't pick the dogs up by one, they start charging me for daycare."

"You're a superhero, honey, a veritable Amazing Woman."

"Yeah, yeah, save it for my birthday," she laughed as she tossed the ice cream (two down, two to go) into the freezer.

"Love you, gorgeous."

"Love you, handsome."

"Extra chocolate frosting on mine, please."

"I know," she said, pushing end and glancing at the display - 9:45, plenty of time to get stuff sorted and stored and the cupcakes made before she had to leave again; she might be able to even work in a cup of coffee and a viewing of the latest episode of _America's Next Top Women's Wear Designer_. Buoyed at the prospect of uninterrupted caffeine and bickering designers, she slid the phone into her pocket and took a step back towards the bags and ended up somewhere else entirely.

She recognized it immediately, despite it having been nine years since she'd last seen it: Tony Stark's workshop. It was shinier and full of more _stuff_ then she remembered. She spun slowly, taking it all in. Mr. Stark had always been a tinkerer, but the majority of the space had been divided between his computers and his cars, now there were constructs that looked like metal suits lining the walls and something that looked like the bottom of a tornado rotating in the middle of four tall metal poles; there were tools _everywhere_ and two robots trundling around. The hot rod was still in the corner and there were more cars lined up by the exit ramp. She wandered slowly towards the black car, the familiarity of it grounding her.

"Potts, you're early," Tony Stark - _Tony Stark_ \- said as he emerged from a back corner of the workshop (where the bathroom was, right? That's how she remembered it). He was wearing low-slung jeans, a towel draped across his bare shoulders and a metal circle that appeared to be surgically attached to his chest.

"What are you wearing? Where's my cappuccino?" he asked, passing by her and heading towards the couch.

Pepper glanced down at herself. She was in her usual Saturday errand outfit: ponytail, minimal makeup, jeans, sneakers and a T-shirt (Denver Broncos; a gift from Hal on her last birthday; it was insanely comfortable). "Wait a minute," she said, taking a lurching step toward Mr. Stark. He'd flopped down on the couch and was flipping through channels with one hand and rubbing the towel through his wet hair with the other.

"Seriously, the _Broncos_?" he sniffed, disdain dripping from every syllable. "Unmute, but only if you're done with your hissy fit."

"My hissy fit?" she asked stupidly, the shock starting to wear off and panic settling in. How had she been transported instantaneously to California? Or had she been transported back in time? But why were there new things in the shop if time had been rewound? And what was with the metal thing in Mr. Stark's chest?

"No, Ma'am," a familiar voice answered, "Mr. Stark is referring to _my_ hissy fit. And, Sir, there is a very big problem…."

"Nigel?" Pepper asked. She'd always liked the computer - as much as it was possible to like a non-corporeal being that had been programmed by Tony Stark.

Mr. Stark turned to look at her, his eyebrows drawing together. "Nigel?"

"Jarvis, Ma'am," the computer corrected her; it was as gentle and polite as she remembered. "And this is the problem to which I was referring."

"Jarvis _talk_ ," Mr. Stark demanded, staring at her - hard and calculating; it made her feel like she was nothing more than data to be processed.

"What the _fuck_ , Tony?" The voice, familiar and strident, cut across the unsettled silence. "Seriously. What the hell did you do now?"

"Oh," Mr. Stark said. " _Oh_."

Pepper stared at him desperately, waiting for an actual _answer_.

"I believe you are beginning to grasp the severity of the situation, Sir," the computer said, which explained _nothing_.

The owner of the voice strode past Pepper, seemingly oblivious to her presence, and stopped toe-to-toe with Mr. Stark and Pepper could finally see her, her face, her body, her eyes. _Breathe_ , she told herself, _breathe breathe breathe._

It was _her_. Yes, the other her had hair that was blonde and very short and an incredibly toned body that was poured into a catsuit that would've gotten Pepper drummed out of every booster club she belonged to, but they looked exactly alike in every other respect. Pepper backed up slowly, wanting to get away - not sure how or where she'd go.

"Jarvis," Mr. Stark said; his eyes were comically large and his lips barely moved. " _How?_ "

"Your latest… _project_ appears to have gotten a bit out of control," Nigel/Jarvis responded.

"Fix it, Tony," scary Pepper said. "Now!"

"Uhm, excuse me? Where am I? Is that Tony Stark? God, he's _gorgeous_. Better than the pictures of him. Are we in Seattle? I've never been to Seattle. How did I get here?"

Pepper turned around and there, standing beside the metal post/bottom of a tornado construct, was yet another her. This one was staring raptly at Mr. Stark and had obviously been on her way to the gym because she was in short shorts and a tiny top and was wearing sneakers, socks and ponytails. Pepper felt dowdy. It was patently unfair that the other hers were so taut and fit.

"I'm not sure," Pepper said, more than a little surprised that her voice was still working considering she was pretty sure she was having some sort of stroke/seizure/out-of-body experience.

The new Pepper finally looked at her and sagged slightly. "You…."

"Yeah," Pepper acknowledged. "And her."

Workout Pepper looked at scary Pepper properly, her mouth falling open.

A ways across the workshop, Mr. Stark looked like he was having his own stroke/seizure/out-of-body experience as ninja Pepper continued to yell at him. "I'm supposed to be in the People's Island Republic of Hawaii on a mission, so please explain why the hell I'm suddenly back in Kansas. Natasha's in Hawaii alone, Tony - I need to be there with her." Her voice broke a bit on "Natasha" and Pepper felt a wave of sympathy - she had a daughter at gymnastics and a son and a husband at soccer and dogs at Tops and Tails Groomers and ice cream melting and hamburger that was not properly refrigerated.

That helped ground her, wake her up from her stupor. She had things to accomplish and Pepper functioned best when she was getting things done.

It was past time to come up with an explanation for this. _Clones? I somehow got completely drunk last night and am imagining this? I was hit on the head with a soccer ball at Brian's game and am in a coma and none of this is real? I finally let Emily dye my hair black and I'm passed out from the fumes and dreaming?_

"Do you understand now, Sir?" the computer asked.

"Oh God," Mr. Stark replied. "Oh, _God_ , Pepper's going to _kill_ me."

_Hal and I finally went to the hypnotist so we could get over our ice cream addiction and for some reason he hypnotized me into believing I'm back in Mr. Stark's workshop surrounded by other me's?_

"Perhaps I should shut down the wormhole," Nig… _Jarvis_ prompted.

_Wormhole - parallel universes - like in that sixties show,_ Star Journey?

"Shut it down," Mr. Stark said, finally moving; he neatly sidestepped the intimidating Pepper, produced a t-shirt from behind a couch cushion and pulled it on as he paced towards the wormhole. "Now, Jarvis. Ten minutes ago."

"Get back here," scary Pepper said, finally turning her attention to the rest of the room. Her eyes flickered and Pepper could see confusion and fear flood her face before she locked it down. Her arms went up across her chest and she stared evenly at everyone. It was pretty impressive.

"Perhaps if you had not muted me while you showered we would not be in this predicament," Jarvis said testily; it reminded Pepper of the fights Mr. Stark had with Nigel.

"Whatever, whatever, you're right, I'm wrong, do something, Jarv." He stopped in front of the computers and began poking at keys.

_I'm on an alternate earth with an alternate Tony Stark and his alternate computer, Jarvis, and two alternate me's._ It was the most ridiculous of all of the explanations - but it was also the one that seemed to be _true._

Pepper focused on the wormhole in time to see yet another her arrive - this one heavily pregnant and looking extremely perturbed - before the spinning ground to a halt and disappeared. Mr. Stark breathed out explosively, took them all in with a look and groaned.

"Four, Jarvis, _four_."

"Five," Jarvis announced in a tone that could only be described as slightly hysterical. "Miss Potts has arrived."

"Stall her!" Mr. Stark demanded, spinning back to pound on the keyboard some more. "She can't see this. It'll be bad - very, very bad. We have to send them back."

"But I just shut down the wormhole," Jarvis protested. "As ordered."

"I don't care," Mr. Stark said, more than slightly hysterical, "I need time to fix this. Tell her the President called and needs to talk to her. Tell her Simon Cowell called and she's supposed to meet him for breakfast far away. Tell her _something_."

"Too late," Jarvis said hopelessly as the large glass doors on the far side of the workshop opened and in walked the Pepper Pepper once had been. Dressed in a suit on a Saturday (if it was Saturday where they were), in heels, her hair immaculate, a phone in one hand, a clipboard in the other.

"Tony, I need your signatures on three things before you say one word to me," she ordered as she walked straight towards him, her eyes fixed on her phone. "And I mean it."

"Pep," the frazzled man at the computers said.

"I said before," she said then lifted her gaze from the phone and took in the tableau. "What?" she asked. "What? Tony? What?" Her brain had obviously gone offline.

And, for some reason, that got everyone else talking. Within seconds four identical voices were asking identical and overlapping questions while Mr. Stark's Pepper stood stock still and stared.

"Peppers, Peppers," Mr. Stark yelled, his hands up, palms facing the room, a determined look on his face.

"Tony," his Pepper interjected. She had broken her momentary catatonia and was blinking rapidly, reading the situation, figuring out strategy. Pepper knew the look - it was one she wore often at work and at home.

"I'm _handling_ it, Pepper," Mr. Stark said, then shifted his attention back to the rest of them. "Now, other Peppers, I need you to calm down."

Pepper rolled her eyes just as Mr. Stark's Pepper did the same. They shared a conspiratorial smile - _what an idiot_ \- as the pregnant Pepper interrupted him. "Don't call me Pepper," she said firmly with a crisp English accent and her hands on her hips. The room quieted and they all looked at her.

"What?" Mr. Stark asked; he jerked his head towards her and his eyes skimmed towards her belly and an odd look - part terror; part hunger - filled his face before he was able to erase it.

"I am Doctor Virginia Potts-Ferris. I hold a doctorate in Management with specializations in Accounting and Finance. I'm a professor at The Royal College of Harvard Business School which is the premier institution of higher learning in the Royal Colonies of America. I am not now, nor have I ever been, 'Pepper.'

"Doctor Pepper," she continued, mumbling. "That's ridiculous."

"Call me Agent Potts," gritted out the catsuited Pepper.

"Oooookay," Mr. Stark drawled out.

"While we're on the subject," the perky Pepper with the ponytails piped in, "I go by Ginny and I just have to tell you that I just love you, Mr. Stark. I own a Stark electric car and Robert and I are looking into getting Stark Solar Panels for our house." She bounced up on her toes. "And your salad dressing is _the best_."

Mr. Stark smiled slowly at her, his gaze roaming over her scantily clad self. "Thanks, Ginny."

Mr. Stark's Pepper took a step closer to him, her eyes narrowed. The look she was giving was stunning and terrifying; Pepper was thoroughly impressed - she needed to develop that look - it would disarm both dissatisfied tweens (and were there any other kind, really?) _and_ rabid PTA mothers (and weren't most PTA mothers rabid?) at twenty paces.

"Okay," Mr. Stark said slowly, his eyes fixed on the bare, pale skin of Ginny's stomach. "Anyone else not want to be called Pepper?"

"Stop it," his Pepper hissed, elbowing him.

"What?" he shot back. "It's for science." He snapped off the word and got very quiet; Pepper remembered his silences. They never boded well for anyone.

Pepper watched as an odd, and not wholly unfamiliar, gleam kindled in his eyes; it looked like this Tony Stark was _just like_ her former boss: he let his penis do most of his thinking. His Pepper noticed, too - and knew what it meant.

"No," she said, staring at him evenly.

"But Pepper, it's…seriously…how often is this going to happen? When am I ever going to have an opportunity like this again?"

"Like what?" Ginny asked innocently, tilting her head and wrinkling her nose.

"Sex," Agent Potts ground out; she'd joined the group during all of the shouting. "He's thinking about how he can have sex with all of us." She obviously knew her Tony Stark well, too.

"No!" Virginia said, "Bloody hell!"

"You're a fucking pervert, Stark," Agent Potts pronounced, "Totally disgusting."

Only Ginny seemed intrigued by the idea; she took a step forward; Mr. Stark's Pepper neatly blocked her and began to berate her boss in a way that both horrified and impressed Pepper. She had _never_ spoken to Mr. Stark that way, not in the whole year she worked for him, not even when he totally and completely deserved it. Ginny added something that was lost in the wave of sound.

"What?" he demanded as the rising tide of the voices of four Pepper Potts filled the cavernous space and echoed back. "I was _joking_. Jeesh, five Peppers and not one with a sense of humor."

The din rose.  
  



	2. Chapter 2

And rose again as the various Peppers vied for Mr. Stark's attention.

Pepper took a deep breath. Despite the complete _unreality_ of the situation they were all in, she was used to chaos; she was a mom and she'd managed camping trips with Scouts both Girl and Cub, birthday parties during tax season, and that gymnastics trip to Aurora. She could manage this.

She took a deep breath, laid her pinky and thumb just inside her lips and breathed out; alchemically, the air morphed into a shrill piercing sound that shut everyone up.

Hal had once told her that he'd fallen in love with her when she'd pulled the same trick during one of Mr. Stark and Mr. Stane's notorious shouting matches. (She'd fallen in love with Hal the second night they spent eating pizza together, watching TV in their boss's living room while he had hammered away at his computer, creating the code that became the program that revolutionized the way people bought and listened to music).

Five pairs of eyes - four identical to her own and one bright brown - looked at her expectantly. She took a deep breath and straightened her spine. "Am I right in thinking that we've been pulled into an alternate earth?"

"It would appear that is correct, Ma'am," Jarvis said soothingly even as Mr. Stark nodded slowly.

_Okay then,_ she thought as the other hers made low sounds and sagged slightly, _it really is the craziest explanation_. She shook off the anxiety and confusion, took a deep breath and focused on the important things. "Okay then. Look Mr. Stark, I have ice cream melting at home and the dogs are at the groomers and if I don't get them by one I'll have to cash out my son's college fund to spring them. And I think I left the freezer door open. You need to send us back."

"Exactly," Virginia added, "I have breakfast waiting for me at The Neighborhood. And my family, they're waiting, too. Do you understand how steep the stairs down to the bathroom are? The only thing that was going to get me back to the top of them again was the bubble and squeak. And the variety of breads they bring you before the meal. And the fried tomatoes."

"And Natasha could be in the hands of the Commies," Agent Pepper added. She stepped closer to Mr. Stark and stared at him through narrowed eyes. "Get. Me. Home."

"I actual-…," Mr. Stark stammered. "I don't wan-. Of course I'll get you home."

"I'm good, actually," Ginny smiled, tipping her head and looking Mr. Stark up and down. "This is _exciting_."

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence which ended when Mr. Stark's Pepper sniffed audibly, Agent Pepper made a low, mocking sound and Virginia said, "I think my blood sugar is dropping. Would you happen to have any food to hand?"

Mr. Stark's Pepper snapped into action, hustling Virginia to the couch and making noises about bringing food down to her. Pepper followed her out of the door and up the stairs. The living room was just a bit different, nothing she could put a finger on - just a feeling of _strangeness_ that set it apart from the one she'd worked in, sat in, fallen in love in.

"Pepper Potts," the other woman said, holding her hand out. "And I'm guessing you are, too."

"Yes," Pepper said, "I mean I was. I haven't been Pepper Potts in a long time." She shook her head and tried to focus. "Pepper Hogan. Hi." She held her hand out in return and shook the other Pepper's hand. It felt like a hand - no jolt, no electricity, no melting of reality, just warm skin and perfectly manicured fingernails. Pepper retrieved her hand and wished that she hadn't let Emily and her friends practice their nail polishing techniques on her the night before.

The other Pepper glanced at her hands, at the wedding band and engagement bracelet she always wore on her right hand and wrist.

"Hogan?" Her tone was politely curious.

"Harold Hogan. Hal. Mr. Stark used to call him Happy because that's what he is. Happy. A very happy guy. And a great dad. A fabulous husband."

"Oh," the other Pepper said. "Wow."

"Is there a Hal here?" she asked, even though she wasn't sure if she wanted to know. "Is he okay?"

"Sure. Yes. Very okay. He's Tony's driver. A great guy. Very happy. Tony calls him Happy, too." The other Pepper smiled wanly and took off. Pepper had remembered the kitchen being in the opposite direction, but they ended up in Mr. Stark's expansive, pristine kitchen anyway.

_The same but different_ , she reminded herself.

"Good thing I just had food delivered," Pepper Potts said, moving efficiently, washing her hands before gathering up bread and cold cuts, fruit and vegetables. "Otherwise we'd be eating day old pizza and Red Bull."

Pepper washed her hands before asking for a knife and a cutting board. She may not have been a secret agent whose job was fighting Communists, but she knew how to cut veggies.

The other Pepper handed over the requested items and Pepper started peeling carrots and slicing them into sticks. It was a familiar action, _normal_.

"So, you and Hap, uh, Hal have kids?" Pepper Potts asked, her voice deceptively neutral. But Pepper knew she was curious, practically vibrating with it; it was how Pepper herself often was.

"Emily who's twelve and Brian who's nine. Tween girls," she sighed, moving on to slicing celery. "They're hard."

The other Pepper was assembling sandwiches of meat and cheese. "Nine and twelve? How long ago did you work for your Tony?"

"My Tony? More like everybody's Tony," she snickered as she started slicing celery. "Wow. You know, I've never called him that."

"Never called him what?"

"Tony. I only worked for him for a year. He's always Mr. Stark to me. Mr. Stark who told Hal and me we were idiots when we told him we were quitting to get married, but gave us bonuses - for performance above the call of duty - so we could adopt the kids and Hal could start his business. Mr. Stark who gave a truly touching toast at our wedding and gave us a hundred year old bottle of Scotch as a wedding present and then tried to sleep with three of my bridesmaids. At the same time." Pepper shook her head fondly. "Mr. Stark."

She really only ever thought of him when he did something outrageous and landed on _Entertainment This Evening_ \- then, she and Hal would laugh at his antics and share the tamer stories about Mr. Stark with the kids; Brian would be bored and Emily would be incredulous that her parents had ever had a life that didn't revolve around groceries, carpools and work. Pepper was pretty sure that their daughter thought they were lying.

Emily. Brian. Hal. Smiley and Bear marooned at the groomers. She might never see them again. She might be stuck forever in this not-quite-right world with four other Peppers and Tony Stark. Suddenly, Pepper started shaking and tears stung her eyes.

"Put the knife down," Pepper Potts ordered softly, her hand clasping Pepper's wrist and guiding it safely to the chopping board.

"Am I going to see my family again?" she asked softly, staring at the small pile of carrots and celery, chopped and ready - something she could pack for her kids, for her husband, for herself - safe in lunchboxes and paper bags.

"Mr. Stark, the one in your world, is he smart?"

Pepper released the knife and took a very deep breath. "He's brilliant. Stark Innovations is the largest computer company in the world and that's because of Tony Stark. He created the Interweb when he was seventeen."

"Well," Tony's Pepper said soothingly, patting Pepper's hand until Pepper met her steady gaze. "This one is a genius, too. He created the problem and he'll fix it. It's what he does now: fixes problems.

"Now," she continued briskly, "we're going to do what _we_ do best: get things _done_." She squeezed Pepper's hand for several seconds before releasing her and pointing towards the apples and oranges. "Why don't you slice those," she suggested as she returned to her sandwich assembly, "So we can feed," she paused, then smiled brightly, "ourselves and see what my mad scientist is up to."

Pepper took a shaky breath and nodded; as her brain shifted from panic mode to calm, her natural curiosity reared its head: "Hey, what's up with the metal thing in Mr. Stark's chest?"

Ten minutes later, they emerged from the elevator bearing food to find Ginny draped over a computer console making eyes at Pepper Potts's mad scientist while Agent Potts glowered at them both..

"I can't believe _you're_ Iron Man," Ginny said breathily.

"That's classified information, missy," Agent Potts cut in, the glower kicking up a notch.

Pepper suppressed a grin. Pepper Potts had told her _all_ about Iron Man and Pepper couldn't help but wonder what Commie Hunter Pepper would have to say about _that_.

"Maybe I'm not Iron Man in her world," Tony pointed out, then cowered slightly when Agent Potts shifted her glare to him. The cower brought him closer to Ginny, who took advantage of the proximity by pressing into him. Tony looked up at her, bemused.

Pepper glanced at Mr. Stark's Pepper, ready to exchange conspiratorial grins – _good thing secret agent Pepper doesn't know that you just told me top secret information_ – but finding that her doppelganger was staring fixedly at the little tableau. No, not at the tableau, but at Ginny and Mr. Stark. Her lips were white, her eyes were glacial and the look on her face was the exact one that Pepper had faced in her own mirror when Hal had hired that little hussy, Christine - completely oblivious to the fact that she was, as Emily would say, all about getting up in his business.

"If you kill her, the universes might explode or something," Pepper pointed out.

"Might be worth it," Pepper Potts ground out before taking a deep breath and saying, very brightly, "Food's here." She marched over to deposit her plates on the coffee table.

"Oh, thank God, Pepper," Mr. Stark said, sliding out from between Ginny and Agent Potts and practically vaulting to their sides. His Pepper handed over the plate with the sandwiches she'd made for him. "It's been really interesting down here."

"That's one word for it," Virginia added as she emerged from the bathroom. "Not a good word, mind, but a word. Oh thank God, food." She moved as quickly as she could - Pepper guessed she was about seven months pregnant - over to the table. "I'm _ravening_."

Tony looked at her, the odd mixture of emotions flickering across his face again before he shifted his gaze back to his Pepper who had her head down as she busily arranged the food and plates. He smiled at her, a smile unlike any Pepper had ever seen on _her_ Mr. Stark's face.

_Oh_ , Pepper thought, _oh_ my. _Things are definitely different here_.

Pepper Potts straightened, her gaze fixed on the four empty posts. "Any progress?"

Mr. Stark's face shuttered and he turned to look at the posts, too, "Some. I think Jarvis and I will be able to reverse the process and…." Pepper lost focus as he rolled out highly technical terms which made her head ache; Jarvis piped in at regular intervals which, frankly, didn't make it any better.

Finally, after an interminable time, he stopped talking, took a breath, and asked, cheerily, "Questions?" He looked around the room, at the women who were, every one of them, very quiet and wearing matching glazed expressions.

He looked at her and, for the first time since he'd mistaken her for his Pepper, spoke to her directly. "Pepper?"

She shook her head helplessly.

"You don't want to be called Pepper?" he questioned. "You didn't say you didn't."

"Pepper Hogan," she said. "And I don't have any questions because I don't understand a thing you said - I'm an accountant, Mr. Stark, not a scientist."

"I was an accountant, too," Pepper Potts volunteered.

"Professor of Accounting," Virginia added as she loaded up her plate and plopped down on the couch.

Ginny sidled over to stand as close to Mr. Stark as she could without actually standing _on_ him. "I'm an accountant for Paramount-Selznick Pictures and I saved them almost a million dollars last year. Robert's a cameraman for the studio. And," she added, tipping her head up towards Mr. Stark, "We really aren't _that_ serious."

Pepper Potts shifted and Pepper moved closer to her, ready to tackle her if she lunged.

"I was an accountant, too," Agent Potts said.

"Did you crunch numbers or beat them into submission?" Virginia asked around a mouthful of sandwich and the other Peppers giggled; Mr. Stark's gaze fastened firmly on his PA, an answering smile tugging at his lips.

Agent Potts grinned sincerely and only a little scarily. "On day two of employment as a staff accountant at Stark War Machines, some _morons_ decided to try and take the whole department hostage to, and I quote, 'call to the attention of the Capitalist pigs the drudgery and servitude of the working class.'" She rolled her eyes. "I taught mixed martial arts, I'm a freaking _master_ \- and none of that Commie Japanese stuff, either - real, American kicking ass - those idiots didn't stand a chance. Two hours later, Natasha recruited me into sword and…." She lowered her head, her skin pinking and her eyes suspiciously bright. There was a moment of uncomfortable silence before she snapped her head back up, threw herself down next to Virginia and began grabbing vegetables.

"Quite extraordinary," Jarvis said as the tension began to ease. "The similarities among the Miss Pottses. Might I inquire about Mr. Stark?"

"Hot," Ginny volunteered, "In every universe, apparently."

Pepper could hear Pepper Potts's jaw creaking with the effort of keeping it firmly shut.

"Married," Virginia said around her second sandwich, "to Rumiko Fujikawa."

"Who?" Mr. Stark demanded.

"The daughter of your…his business partner." She shot Mr. Stark a disdainful look. "They spend more time in the tabloids than they do working, those two." She said it as if it was this Mr. Stark's fault. "I met him once, at a conference on the development of companies in a post-Elizabeth II world. He was, quite frankly, a wanker. You seem to be less of one," she added magnanimously. "He's quite the favorite of Queen Diana which, of course, is more fodder for the tabloids." She shook her head. "You should do something about that."

"Sure," Mr. Stark said weakly. "I will." He was rather pale.

"I like my Mr. Stark," Pepper volunteered, hoping to soothe him. "He was a decent boss and he helped Hal and me adopt our kids. And his tPod is the best thing ever - they keep the kids quiet during long car rides."

"Hal?" he asked. "Kids?"

"Her world's Happy," Pepper Potts clarified, "and they have two." Mr. Stark went even more pale.

"A kick-ass partner," Agent Potts said. "An integral part of SWORD." Pepper could hear the capitals this time.

"It stands for something, doesn't it?" she asked. "It's an acronym like CPA."

"It stands for Secret Weapons of Reason and Determination and we are all that stands between the free world and domination by Japan and Australia and New Zealand and Hawaii and all their Commie buddies in the Pacific. Tony doesn't have time to make salad dressing or hang out with Queens where I come from - he's too busy building weapons and saving the world in his suit."

Pepper's gaze drifted to the wall of metal suits. Her Mr. Stark had favored Gucci and Prada; this one appeared to favor Black and Decker.

"But he does need to stop asking to watch me and Natasha," Agent Pepper added, "Because that just isn't ever going to happen. We don't like an audience and we sure as hell don't share. Got it?" she asked, eyeing Mr. Stark fiercely.

"It's not _me_ ," he reminded her. "I wouldn't ask."

"You would, too," his Pepper disagreed.

He took a deep breath and glanced at her. She gazed back at him evenly, her eyebrows slightly raised, until he gave in, gave his best lopsided smile and conceded. "Yeah, I would."

She smiled warmly at him and he smiled right back. _Definitely oh my_ , Pepper thought.

"I rather enjoyed learning about the other Mr. Starks," Jarvis said, interrupting the moment.

"You would, you sadist," Mr. Stark said, clapping his hands together and looking away from his Pepper. "Now, how about you and I get everyone back home?" He was already striding back towards the monitors - Agent Pepper trailing behind him.

Three hours later, he was still working and the mood in the room had gone from fed and full, happy and hopeful to increasingly hopeless.

The Peppers spent hours one and two sharing stories of their own earths. Pepper Potts had shared stories of her Mr. Stark; Pepper reveled in the familiarity of his bad behaviors while Mr. Stark had loudly offered commentary and rebuttals from his workstation. Ginny talked about her strained relationship with her boyfriend, gossiped about movie stars - some of whom were famous in other universes, too - and went a long way to endearing herself to Pepper Potts when she gamely put on a shirt conjured from somewhere upstairs; the shirt was very big and Pepper wondered if it belonged to this earth's Hal before the thought made her breathe funny and she had to stop thinking about it. Virginia had divided her time between the bathroom, discussing life as a pregnant mother of four, a full professor, an attorney's wife and a citizen of the English Empire, and making dry, hilarious observations. Pepper had offered her own stories of Tony Stark and of the kids and Hal and the dogs. Agent Potts had even joined the group for a while and had regaled them with terrifying stories of missions and life in Kansas.

But hour three was different. No one felt much like talking. Virginia had gone upstairs to take a nap; Pepper Potts had pulled out her laptop and bent over it with her fingers flying and her brow furrowed; Agent Pepper was glaring at the wormhole construct as if she could reactivate it with the force of her gaze alone; and Pepper was watching TV - something called _The Jersey Shore_ that she was very happy was absent from her universe - with Ginny. It was close to two in the afternoon and Pepper wondered how many times the groomers had called her cell phone, the one in her pocket that didn't have universal roaming. She wondered if they'd called Hal and if he'd gone home to discover what his kitchen full of melting, spoiling food and empty of his wife.

What would he tell the kids, what would he tell himself?

Panic rose, strong and hot, but she battered it down. Tony Stark was a genius in all of the universes and he would _fix this_ because, if he didn't, he'd disappoint his Pepper Potts - and it appeared that he would do just about anything to prevent that from happening.

"Pepper," Mr. Stark called.

Pepper lifted her head, Pepper Potts looked up from her computer and Agent Potts moved towards him.

"My Pep…I mean, Pepper Pot…the one that lives here…well, not _here_ here, but in this universe."

His Pepper had laid her computer aside and was by his side before he finished speaking. They spoke quietly for a moment and then he smiled widely at her, his eyes bright and warm; she leaned closer and said something that made him laugh.

She moved back slightly. "I'll go get her then."

"Should be about five more minutes," he responded.

"Good job, Mr. Stark."

"Told you I'd do it," he said, grinning immoderately. Pepper Potts rolled her eyes at him and disappeared up the stairs.

"Okay ladies," he prompted. "Return trips to various alternate universes will commence momentarily."

Pepper and Ginny got off the couch and slowly approached the wormhole construct; Agent Pepper advanced on Mr. Stark. "I need to go first," she said. "I need to get back to Natasha."

"In reverse order," Mr. Stark said; his eyes were fixed on the bank of monitors. "Last arrived needs to go first. Jarvis, check that computation again."

"Certainly, Sir."

"Tony," Agent Potts persisted. "She could be hurt or in trouble."

"If you go first you'll end up back in Virginia's universe," Mr. Stark explained. "Imagine a lifetime of British food." He shuddered.

Agent Potts grunted at him and started pacing.

"Ready, Jarv?" Mr. Stark asked.

"As always, Sir," the computer answered.

On cue, Pepper Potts and Virginia emerged from the elevator and headed towards the metal poles; Mr. Stark rose and joined them, grabbing his Pepper's hand. When she looked askance at him, he smiled that crooked smile of his and said, "I just don't want to misplace you." She flushed and stepped closer to him until her right hip brushed against his left. "Magic time, Jarvis," he prompted.

"Yes, Sir," the computer said and, instantly, the gray swirling mass opened up in the middle of the poles. Virginia took a tentative step towards it before glancing at Mr. Stark.

"You're absolutely certain that this will work."

He nodded sharply. "I wouldn't send you through if I weren't."

"Pleasure," she said, inclining her head towards the rest of the room. "Best of luck to all of you." There were gentle mumbles of assent.

Mr. Stark smiled encouragingly at her. "Good luck with the….," he made a motion towards her protruding belly.

"You can say baby," his Pepper prompted.

"Thank you," Virginia said. "I'll be so happy when the little bugger is out - you don't want to know what I have to deal with right now."

"Nooooo," Mr. Stark said. "I don't."

Virginia raised her hand, took a deep breath and stepped forward. And was gone. Pepper blinked at the suddenness of it.

"Jarvis?"

"The readings are consistent with those that preceded her arrival."

Mr. Stark closed his eyes and breathed out. "Good. Goodgoodgood. Ginny?"

She bounced forward, stripping the shirt off as she went. "So," she announced as she tossed it - with perfect aim - onto Mr. Stark's chair, "I'm thinking it's time for me to make some changes - maybe go to Seattle, see if I can find my own Tony Stark."

Pepper Potts shook her head slowly. "I just hope yours is easier to handle than mine."

"Hey!" Mr. Stark protested.

"What would be the fun in that?" Ginny asked before smiling at the room. "We like challenges - challenges are our _thing_. Bye!"

She entered the wormhole and was gone. Instantly, Agent Potts was at the edge of the construct. "Now?" she demanded.

"Twenty seconds, Ma'am," Jarvis directed.

She spun towards the small group and nodded sharply at Mr. Stark. "Not bad," she pronounced. "You're a lot like him, you know. And that's a good thing."

"Fight the good fight," Mr. Stark said.

"Always," she said. "Now?"

"Now, Ma'am."

She saluted them and disappeared.

"Now you, Hogan," Mr. Stark said.

Impulsively, Pepper threw her arms around both of them and whispered in the other Pepper's ear, "I think Mr. Stark may be your Hal."

Pepper Potts glanced at Mr. Stark. "I'm not sure about that."

"I am," Pepper persisted before turning her attention to Mr. Stark. "Bye. And thanks for getting me home."

"Sure," Mr. Stark said, frowning slightly. He was turned towards his Pepper and asking "What'd she say to you?" as Pepper turned and walked into the wormhole and out into her kitchen. It was quiet. Empty. No hysterical husband or police or chattering neighbors.

Pepper fumbled for her phone. 9:45 AM on Saturday. Amazing. She had traveled across universes. She'd met other hers. Had seen how her life could have turned out if she'd continued working for Tony Stark and had never become a wife and mother - if the Cold War had never ended - if the US had lost the Revolutionary War. And now she was back in her kitchen and it was still 9:45.

She started hyperventilating. Her knees went weak and her heart started pounding and, for close to twenty seconds, she gave some serious thought to sitting in the corner, crying and/or jabbering until someone came home - but in the twenty-first second she remembered that she was a Virginia Potts, a _Pepper_ _Potts_ and, across the universes, Pepper Pottses _got things done._ Pepper Pottses didn't cry. They didn't fold because crazy things happened to them. No. They focused and got down to the business of life, and her life was carpools and cupcakes and her family. She had dogs to pick up from the groomers and the end of the month reports to start on Monday. She had a movie date with her family (and Ethan) tonight and her parents visiting in two weeks. She had groceries to put away and she had cupcakes to make – six of them with extra chocolate frosting for her husband.

And she'd do all that right after she had a cup of coffee.

And a bottle of wine.


	3. Chapter 3

Meanwhile, back in their universe, Tony stared at the wormhole and held onto his Pepper. She flexed her fingers slightly, trying to release his hand; Tony tightened his grip in response. He'd said he didn't want to misplace her and he'd _meant_ it.

Pepper Hogan disappeared into the swirling gray cloud and blinked out of sight. Tony leaned slightly to the side, pressing himself more closely to Pepper, and glanced up at the ceiling. "Jarvis, are they all back?"

"By all indications, Sir."

"Shut it down," he ordered, looking at the wormhole again as it slowed and stopped and disappeared.

The second it was gone, Pepper yanked her hand from his and stepped away from him; he turned to look at her, schooling his expression into studied nonchalance; he was reeling, _slightly_ , but Pepper had been _fine_ and he didn't want her to think he was any less composed than she had been. He was Tony Goddamn Iron Man The Fuck Stark and he had a reputation to maintain.

"Well, that happened," he grinned.

Pepper blinked her blue eyes once, twice, then punched him in the arm. _Hard_.

He refused to give in to the urge to rub the offended appendage and gave her his very best shocked and wounded look.

She made a disgusted sound, said, "I need a drink," and then headed for the door.

He trailed after her at a cautious distance, determined to stay safely away from flailing hands and feet. "You don't really drink," he noted as she wrenched open the door and stomped up the stairs.

"I do today," she retorted. "I think I've earned it, seeing as how my boss created a…something that sucked four other mes into his house."

"He was building a transporter, Miss Potts," Jarvis interjected. "And was attempting to calibrate it using your DNA but his calculations were imprecise and he muted me when I tried to inform him of the impending problem."

"Mute," Tony said, a little too late.

Pepper froze on the top step and rounded on him; he took a step down. Just to be safe. "Unmute, Jarvis," she said.

"Thank you," the AI said obsequiously.

"He was using my DNA to build a transporter. A transporter like in _Star Trek_?" she asked, staring at Tony.

"Exactly, Miss. He said that it would be his greatest invention ever."

"I am here," Tony protested. "And I was using her DNA to _calibrate_ it, Jarvis." He threw an annoyed look up to the ceiling, and then a wary one back at Pepper. "Think how happy you would've been when you were able to be beamed to Paris for shoes or Beijing for Peking duck. And _Star Trek_ is cool."

Pepper raked her gaze from his head to his toes, pursed her lips and turned her back on him again. He followed her through the living room and into the bar where she wrenched open the door of the wine refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of 2000 Chateau Lafite Rothschild Pauillac. Tony wisely did not mention that he had paid over three thousand dollars for the bottle of wine that Pepper was viciously opening and pouring into a tumbler. Only Pepper Potts would choose very expensive red wine to get drunk on.

"I thought you were okay with this," Tony pointed out. Pepper guzzled the wine, her eyebrows rising above the rim of the glass as she stared at him. "I mean you made food and did work and _giggled_. I haven't heard you giggle in a long time."

She emptied the glass before she spoke. "I was trying to keep them from panicking, Tony. I was trying to keep you on task and focused. _I did what I do_. It doesn't mean that I'm okay, how am I supposed to be okay with this?" She grabbed the bottle and strode to one of the low couches that dotted the room; she threw herself down and poured another glass of wine. "All those Peppers, all those Tonys, just like us." She shook her head and took an enormous sip.

He pulled a small table over to the couch and sat on it, facing her. Their knees brushed slightly. "They aren't you. They aren't me. We're our own people," he pointed out before grabbing the bottle and taking a deep swallow. The wine was rich and heady and felt very, very good sliding down his throat; warmth radiated outwards instantly.

"Get your own," she groused, yanking the bottle back from him. "And they looked like me, mainly, and they walked like me and talked like me." She shuddered and closed her eyes tightly before popping them back open and drinking straight from the bottle. Without even wiping off his germs.

Tony leaned forward, disturbing the air around her and inhaling the mix of scents that his brain and body identified as _Pepper_. "Wrong," he countered. "None of them smelled right. They definitely didn't move like you – no one else can walk sassily in high heels like you do. Their voices were slightly _off_. I can't explain it, there was just a different tone or quality or nasally thing, I don't know." She tipped her chin up slightly and offered him the bottle. He took another deep swallow and continued, "Their smiles didn't pull their lips up into the right shape, and their hair wasn't the right orangey-yellowy-red. They were _totally_ different."

And none of them had been _right_ \- not the way the woman sitting across from him was.

She drank from her glass, holding his gaze. "Okay," she said finally.

"I mean _you'd_ never marry Happy."

"Probably not."

Tony reeled back in horror that was only partially mock.

"He _is_ a great guy," she said, her words slurring slightly as the wine caught up with her. She emptied her glass and waggled it at him. Tony sighed and emptied the bottle into it. "And cute in a big, papa bear kind of way."

He frowned, first at her, and then at the empty bottle.

"I think tequila next," Pepper suggested before returning to her assiduous work on obliterating the wine still in her glass.

"A three thousand dollar bottle of wine killed in less than ten minutes," Tony groused, watching the last of the ruby liquid disappearing between Pepper's pink lips. "That's gotta be some kind of record."

Pepper rolled her eyes. "Says the man who drank his way through a half dozen cases of wine in one Saturday night. Tequila, please."

"I had help," he reminded her as he stood and sauntered over to the bar, trying to make it look like it was all his idea.

"Mmm, yes," she said. "The 2006 Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders, wasn't it?"

"Only half the squad," he said, before deciding that a change of subject was definitely needed. "You don't drink tequila," he pointed out, grabbing a bottle of Herradura _Seleccion Suprema_ and two shot glasses.

"I. Do. Today."

Tony returned to his spot, facing Pepper. She looked at the proffered shot glass and sniffed derisively, thrusting the tumbler towards him instead.

He sighed and poured out a generous measure for her, then a less generous shot for himself.

"To all the Peppers everywhere," she said, slurring the s slightly. "May their lives be much less challenging than mine."

"Hey!" he protested as she knocked back the shot, wincing and choking; he pulled her towards him so he could pat her back, perhaps a little more firmly than strictly necessary. "I don't _try_ to make your life hard."

She was flushed, quite becomingly, and her eyes were very glassy. She smiled and shook her head several times. "I know that, Tony. I do." She leaned back, necessitating the rapid withdrawal of his hand, and laid her head on the back of the couch and peered up at the ceiling silently.

After several seconds, Tony's stomach started clenching. She could be thinking things, _contemplating_. And that could lead to decisions that he really wouldn't like.

"Don't leave me for a hot female Russian spy."

Her head came up quickly. "I wasn't planning on it." She looked at him, then down at her empty glass, then back at him. "I thought you'd like that."

"Nope." He knocked back his own shot, relishing the delicious burn and the heat of it.

"Even if we let you watch?" she queried, grabbing the bottle from him and pouring a sizable amount in her glass before filling his again; she didn't spill any and her hand didn't shake. It was like she was pouring tea for the Queen (Elizabeth or Diana) and it was ridiculously impressive. Tony shook his head. He was woozy and his head was starting to swim, which he could chalk up only to the fact that he'd been living a (primarily) clean life and drinking (mostly) protein shakes and water for _days_ and his tolerance must have been dulled a bit.

There was no other explanation.

"You wouldn't let me watch," he said, pouting slightly. "You _won't_ let me watch. You said."

"Agent Pepper said she won't," she corrected, smirking a bit. "Because she doesn't like your penis." She giggled, then sipped daintily on her tumbler of tequila.

"Or anyone else's," he said huffily. "Not just mine. Don't be passing judgment on something you've never seen." He leaned in slightly.

"Oh, I've seen it."

"Experienced then," he said before taking the shot. Pepper smiled around her glass at him and he, suddenly, was very maudlin - because Pepper - _the other Peppers_ \- weren't the only ones who'd done things differently. "I don't want to be married to Rubik's Cube Fujiwara.…"

"Rumiko Fujikawa," she corrected softly, her gaze fastened on him; she didn't even call him on the complete non sequitur. "And okay."

"Or fight Communists - are there Communists anymore? - or make _salad dressing_. I want to fly around in my suit and hang out with Rhodey and kick Happy's butt in the boxing ring. I want to build really cool things and go to cool parties."

"You can do all that" she reminded him. "You _do_ do all that."

"True." He stood up on shaky legs, filled a tumbler with water and drank it down before continuing. "And I want you to wear your blue dress and high high heels and feed me cheeseburgers."

"Okay," she said a bit breathlessly. She took the glass of water he offered her and knocked it back. "Maybe. We'll see. That dress was expensive and I'd have to kill you if you got hamburger grease or ketchup on it."

He smiled, slightly cheered, then sighed. "Do you think that's why they left them? Why all those Peppers left their Tonys? Did they get hamburger grease on their blue dresses?" He dropped back into his chair, his legs gone very weak at the thought of all of the Pepperless Tony Starks across the universes.

"Probably not," she said, very slowly and very deliberately. "I was assured that that dress was a one-of-a-kind and I would assume that means one-of-a-kind in all universes."

"As much as I spent on that dress, I would hope so," he said very seriously and his mind wandered a bit more. "What do you think all those other Tonys are like, Pep, really? They can't be as bad as those other Peppers said they are."

"They didn't say they were bad," she said soothingly, putting their glasses on the floor so she could lean forward and put her hands on his knees. _On. His. Knees_.

"The British one is a wanker, whatever the hell that means. And the Pepper who married Happy couldn't get away from him fast enough," he pointed out; he felt that he and his doppelgangers were deeply misunderstood by the world(s) at large: they were just men trying to have some fun in life while making stuff that went fast and did good things for the world.

"They're fine," Pepper said, squeezing his knees gently.

"But they don't have a Pepper," he said, grabbing up the bottle and swallowing down a good portion of the liquid. He suddenly wanted to be very, very drunk - didn't want to think about all those Tony Starks living their lives oblivious to how important a Pepper Potts was - how _necessary_. Didn't want to think about how he would be if his Pepper had never moved to California, never taken a job at SI, never found that mistake on that spreadsheet, never….

Her hands squeezed his knees. "They don't need a Pepper."

"Everyone needs a Pepper," he countered. "Especially Tony Starks."

"Oh," she said softly, her eyebrows rising up and her blue, blue eyes widening.

"Yeah," he murmured, lifting a shoulder.

She mumbled something that sounded remarkably like "Charming in any universe" before leaning forward and pressing a sloppy, misaimed kiss at the corner of his mouth.

"Mr. Stark," Jarvis said into the stunned silence, "Miss Potts, I belie-."

"Mute," they said in unison.

"You sure?" he asked, his stupid, drunk conscience overriding his brilliance.

She laughed then pressed forward again.

And, down below, in a genius's workshop, a transporter began to fire up on its own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the "cliffhanger," folks - no excuses - it was, after all, a "cliché" challenge and how much more cliché of an end can one write?
> 
> If you're at all interested in the story notes about each of the alternate Peppers, follow the link to my LJ. I had a lot of fun coming up with backstories for each of them. http://dracutgrl.livejournal.com/50206.html


End file.
